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A Room of One's Own

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I enter Parijat’s Room (a Room of One's Own, Feminist Memory Project, Photo Kathmandu 2018) for the second time in three hours. I scan the room, leaving not even an inch unfolded. During the first visit when I remained in the room for just a while, I saw this amazing installation that reminded me of Van Gogh’s “The Bedroom”.  As I enter this homage to an almost mythic figure, I take all the time in the world as I leisurely go through everything at display. I feel, to some extent, the aura of the woman who had spent her days in the room. What Parijat had achieved from within this room was unprecedented. Or, at least that was what we were lead to believe as secondary school students. Nonetheless, Parijat was a legend. She had won the Madan Puraskar, the epitome of Nepali Literature for Sirish Ko Phool which was also translated to English. The translation- The Blue Mimosa was even included in the curriculum of University of Maryland, USA. This captured my imagination more ...
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Narayanhiti

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Witnessing the lavishness and  the riches of the Narayanhiti I feel this hate surging within me I feel the blood boiling in my veins... When the country lived in hunger The children and the old died of cold They lived inside the high walls Feasting on the exotic dishes In their fancy glistening dishes of fine china and glass and gold and what not When people died of hot in Dhanusha And of cold in Jumla For the lack of hospitals and roads in Rukum and as Koshi flooded down south They rested in their imported cushions Controlling the temperature with the remote controls As they showed off the namesake halls And their trophy animals on the walls. Mahendra shoved down our mouth the khasa bhasa As he sent his sons and daughters further west If English was the language you so desired, If Nepali was not elite enough for you, If you always desired your sons and daughters to go to the Oxfords and the Cambridges Why the shenanigan ? Why Nepali? While people slept by the road in t...
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Bikhandankari Kabita— by an Ungrateful SoB

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"Be proud! ", you say, " Of this never conquered land" "How lucky you are to have birthed in the land of the Buddha" "Of having shared the roof with the towering Everest! " "Be grateful to the Kings that built this proud nation! " You didn't have your language forced off of you Your culture stripped off, History torn apart, burned and trampled on You didn''t have your story rewritten to nothingness You didn't have your blood shed into a river Only to be valued less than a drop of water You didn't have your skin fleshed threadbare to the bones And had it replaced with that of the oppressors And, yet when I say I  only want as much as what had been snatched away, That I want to stand shoulder to shoulder, That no more will I crawl beneath you, That no more will I be kept silent You call me a traitor, You brand me an inciter of violence in this garden of peace, In this garden of "unity in diversit...
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